


The Blind Man, and Love

by codexmoonlight



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Aftercare, Angst with a Happy Ending, Denial of Feelings, Enemies to Lovers, Feelings Realization, Jealousy, M/M, Misunderstandings, Sharing a Bed, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:48:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26860918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/codexmoonlight/pseuds/codexmoonlight
Summary: When Dejun wakes up, a forgotten poem hides inside his mind, and the hand of the person he tells himself he hates the most plays with his hair.
Relationships: Qian Kun/Xiao De Jun | Xiao Jun
Comments: 15
Kudos: 73





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> hey everyone, here i am, posting for the first time! this is a spin off of a much bigger project i am currently writing, but for context, all you need to know is that the house i mention belongs to the entire group and that they all have different skills/powers, and dejun’s is building living machines. anyways, hope you like :) thank you bloo, my beta and bestie <3

The crickets sang incessantly, mixing their loud chants with the murmur of the waves down at the beach. All of those sounds made their way into Dejun's ears, slowly waking him up from his heavy sleep. His eyelids weighed more than the moon, so he decided to keep them closed for a few more seconds, letting his other senses perceive his surroundings. His mouth and throat begged for water, dry from his slumber, while his nose detected the eternal scent of seaweed and salt, that was just as part of the old house as any piece of their wooden furniture, and his body underneath his clothes burned with the familiar post-nap heat. But more importantly, he felt a hand playing with his thick brown hair, and only then he realized his head laid on someone's lap. He didn't remember falling asleep like that. In fact, the last thing his memories had archived was him sitting on the couch in the living room, talking to his friends less and less until his tired mind and even more tired eyes stopped participating in the conversation and simply tried to follow what they said. 

He slowly opened his eyes. A strange dream made its way into the awake part of his brain, as if it was being carried by a peaceful river. His vision showed him the wooden floor, part of the empty fireplace and the legs that supported his head while he slept. Only the yellow lamp that sat on one of the shelves illuminated the room, leaving behind dark corners and dim details. 

He groaned, feeling the stiffness of his neck when he moved it for the first time in hours. The hand in his hair only then stopped moving. His limbs were slightly heavy and sore, and complained when he changed to a sitting position, next to the person on his right. Dejun rubbed the sleepiness away from his eyes, ran a hand through his face and only then looked at his human pillow. 

Kun. 

Oh. 

That wasn't usual. Dejun wasn't cuddly whatsoever, never being a big fan of hugs or other types of unnecessary touches, and especially not with  _ him.  _ His friendship with the older man relied mostly on Dejun teasing him endlessly and Kun rolling his eyes at him. Sleeping on his lap while he touched his hair wasn't… something he had ever imagined them doing. 

He swallowed the discomfort in his throat. When he spoke, his voice came out dry and hoarse. 

“What time is it?” he whispered, purposely avoiding looking at Kun. 

“Almost 3.am.” 

“3.am!? Why didn't you wake me up?” There it was. They rarely talked like the adults they were, every conversation turning into some sort of argument, more or less serious, and it was almost always Dejun's fault. Annoying Kun was just so much fun. However, most of the time, this one included, the older didn't let his eventual frustration show in his voice or face. 

“You were sleeping so well, I decided not to wake you up,” he said calmly, his voice low and soft. 

Dejun raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. 

“So you decided to stay here like a fool, just to let me sleep?” he asked sarcastically. 

“Yeah.”

“How did I even end up on your lap?” he asked, looking away. Facing the table in front of him was easier than to look at Kun's gentle eyes that didn't leave his face for a second. Even that annoyed Dejun. 

“It wasn't me, you just laid there to get more comfortable, probably,” he answered. 

“You still didn't have to touch my hair. It's probably all dirty now,” he threw, hoping for a snarky response. It wasn't funny when Kun didn't get irritated, and since that rarely happened, arguing with him was rarely entertaining too. 

It didn't work. 

“Sorry,” Kun simply said, “It was soft.”

Dejun rolled his eyes. The faint smile in Kun's lips made his blood boil. How dare he act like that was normal? It wasn't! They weren't close, at least not the type of close where they could just sleep on each other's laps and play with each other's hair for no reason and with no explanation. That wasn't supposed to happen. 

“Whatever. I'm going to bed,” he sighed. 

“Are you going home? Or will you stay?”

“'Guess I'll stay. If it's 3.am, I'm sure as hell not going to walk home, I'm not in the mood to get robbed at knifepoint or something.”

Kun nodded. 

“Good night,” he wished, his kind, dark eyes reflecting the warm light of the lamp. 

“Sleep terribly,” Dejun said over his shoulder, already leaving the room. The chuckle he heard as a reply made him want to throw a chair at him. 

\---

No matter how hard he tried, Dejun couldn't remember the poem in his dream. It had showed up twice in his sleep that night, while he slept on the couch (he shuddered even thinking about that), but had faded away like cotton candy on water when he woke up. He had a vague, nebulous idea about it's theme, but couldn't recall any single word of it. 

And it was keeping him awake. When he closed his eyes, they refused to stay shut for long, and he was left staring at the ceiling for the millionth time that night. The clock on the corridor clicked four times. 

_ How did it go? I was sure I would remember it when I woke up, but now I can't even remember a single verse?  _

A cold breeze made his curtains dance and sneaked under his sheets, giving him goosebumps. He had forgotten to close the window, and now the wind was getting stronger and bringing the loud, annoying noise of the crickets and the vivid smell of the ocean with it. 

_ When I remember, maybe I'll turn it into a song… wait, that's it. It was a song, not just a poem.  _

The second of joy that he felt when he remembered that detail quickly disappeared, when he realized that information didn't help at all. The words were still lost in the corners of his mind, maybe never to be found again, leaving him in that state of insomnia until he would finally take a deep breath and forget about the dream. For now, his eyes refused to stay closed. 

The wind blew stronger again, and for the first time in a long, long time, Dejun felt lonely. His tired body and mind, from the day he'd had and from the effort of trying to remember what was most likely gone forever, didn't match his wide open eyes and restless fingers. He was certain he was going to wake up with a headache next morning. He felt his body sinking into the mattress and his mind sinking into the dark parts of his soul, making his mouth dry again. Suddenly, the bed felt cold, unwelcoming, unknown, a sea of ice around him, chilling him to the bones. He laid on his side, pulling the sheets closer to his body, trying to keep himself warm at least until he wasn't way too tired to get up and close the window anymore. 

Deep down, Dejun knew. Even if the weather on that cliff rivaled a tropical country, he would still be cold, and, worse than that, lonely. Pushing people away was his method of keeping himself sane and at peace, but sometimes, in dark, windy nights like that, he really just wanted a hand to hold. 

Then, he remembered how warm his entire body had felt when he woke up on the couch. He shivered. Hell no. Anything but that. 

After almost half an hour, he gave up. It was like trying to remember the song. As soon as  _ that _ thought had crept into his mind, it was impossible to remove it, that image carved into his soul with a sharp knife. He could try to kick it, shove it to a corner, crumple it until it was nothing but a concept, but that string of words was what kept his thoughts together, in that moment. 

He sat on the bed when the wall clock outside his room announced that it was half past four. He could try to blame the cold on his light clothes, a black tank top and shorts, but he knew the feeling wouldn't go away even if he wore a snow suit. He rubbed his eyes again, feeling his fingers go numb. Late night, loneliness, cold wind. He wasn't even thinking about his actions when he got up, letting his body work on autopilot. 

Dejun closed the window when he walked past it, but didn't go back to bed after that. Instead, he slowly opened the door, trying to keep its screeching noise to a minimum, before he welcomed the hallway with his burning eyes. After a quick visit to the bathroom to drink some water in order to make his throat feel less like cork, he headed to the stairs, letting his tired feet take him to the floor above him. They barely felt any detail of the floor and rugs under them while he walked. 

A minute later, standing in front of a relatively familiar door, he tried to tell himself that it was a terrible idea. Absolutely ridiculous. Especially after their last conversation, if you could call it that. He was being an absolute idiot, and he was about to become an even bigger one if (when?) he opened the door in front of him. Yet, those vague thoughts weren't strong enough to stop him. It was almost guaranteed that he would regret his actions next morning, but in that very moment, the only thing on his mind was how cold he felt, and how lonely he'd been lately. 

Dejun pressed his fingertips against the door, which wasn't actually closed, and stepped inside. His goosebumps disappeared immediately and he felt much warmer than in his own room, due to the closed window, but the moonlight illuminated the space, not blocked by the opened dark blue curtains. He closed the door behind him, hearing the soft click when the latch fell in place. His eyelids finally started to get heavier, and he bit his lip, shaking away all the warning signs his brain furiously threw him, telling him to save his last piece of dignity and return to his room while he still could. 

Kun slept on his back, one hand peacefully resting on his chest over his grey t-shirt while the other arm laid open on the bed, forming a ninety degree angle with his body. Almost like an invitation. 

Dejun didn't have enough awake brain cells working well enough to tell him that staring at someone sleeping like that was creepy, to say the least, so he stayed there for a few minutes, standing in front of the door and simply watching Kun's chest movements while he breathed in his sleep. He took a step forward and something inside him almost broke. A sudden fragment of common sense made him reconsider everything, forcing his exhausted mind to admit that he was being plain stupid, but just when he was about to turn around, he noticed something. 

The bed could easily fit two people, and a normal person (a more conscious Dejun would argue that Kun was  _ far _ from normal, but still) would sleep in the middle of it, enjoying all the space and comfort it provided. Maybe it was just one of his dumb habits, one of his many quirks that irritated Dejun like nobody else could, but, at least that night, Kun slept on the side, his open arm being the only occupant of the rest of the bed. Just like he had been expecting company. 

After noticing that, none of the alarms inside Dejun worked any longer. He was still yet to form a coherent thought ever since he'd left his room, and he sure as hell wasn't about to start having them now. He shrugged, walked around the bed and pushed the duvet away, giving him space to get comfortable on the bed. He grabbed one of the extra pillows spread across the mattress, but fuck, Kun's arm was  _ right there,  _ filling the space Dejun planned to use for his pillow. Fuck it. Taking all the space for himself, even in his own bed? Ridiculous. Dejun laid his head right on the other man's arm, just to show him a lesson. 

_ I hope your arm feels numb when you wake up. That's what you deserve.  _

Not even the bitter thought that crossed his mind stopped his body from immediately relaxing and his mind from growing drowsy. The bed was surprisingly okay, even with a terrible owner like Kun, and he slowly felt his conscience slip away, hearing the older's steady breathing and letting the soft noise lull him to sleep. The poem had long left his list of worries, and the soft duvet wrapped around his body kept him warm and cozy. Not bad. Not bad at all. 

In the last seconds before he closed his eyes and completely shut off his brain, he still had the chance to see Kun turn his head to him; then his body followed, while he threw his free arm around Dejun's body. The younger didn't have time to complain about the hand on his waist or the warm breath on the top of his head before he fell asleep. 

\---

Dejun didn't need to open his eyes to know he was alone the next morning, not when all he felt when he woke up was cold. Again. 

The sun shined high on the sky, still partially covered by the thin morning mist, and Dejun tried not to think about  _ it _ . Not to think about anything. He felt sick, slightly suffocated, like an invisible hand pressed against his throat, slowly increasing the pressure and cutting his airflow until he fainted. 

He didn't return to his room to put on new clothes, choosing to open the back door on the kitchen while he still wore his sleeping clothes. Sitting at the table in their backyard, with his feet resting on one of the chairs, Kunhang quietly ate a sandwich, his dark eyes lost in the ocean in front of them. 

_ Good idea. When you don't want to think, surround yourself with people who don't think either.  _

Sensing his presence, Kunhang turned around and greeted him with a nod, to which Dejun replied in the same way. 

“Did you return home last night?” Kunhang asked casually. “I woke up in the middle of the night and noticed you weren't in your room, your door was opened.”

Dejun took a deep breath. Great start of conversation, indeed. Nothing a white lie wouldn't solve, though. 

“I just stayed on the couch. Didn't feel like going upstairs.”

Kunhang nodded again, his mouth full of his disgusting sandwich. Even thinking about food made Dejun's stomach turn. 

Ignoring the sandwich, Dejun chose to look at his friend instead. They knew each other for almost two years now, and Dejun genuinely trusted him. Sure, he could be… interesting sometimes, but beneath his exterior layer of apparent carelessness and wild behavior, there was a caring, kind, thoughtful boy, always ready to help others even if that meant sacrificing himself to do it. Dejun didn't want to tell him everything, he  _ couldn't  _ tell him even half of the story, but he needed to say something and to alleviate the feeling of being softly, dangerously choked by his own mind. 

“I think Kun's in love with me,” he finally said, bluntly. He couldn't hide his surprise when Kunhang didn't even blink at hearing that. The black haired boy raised a finger, telling Dejun to wait while he chewed the piece of sandwich in his mouth. 

“Well, congrats,” he said after swallowing it. “You're officially the last person to know.”

“What!?” Dejun leaned forward, gripping the arms of his chair until his knuckles turned white. 

“Please,” Kunhang rolled his eyes. “Only someone who loves you dearly could put up with your shit like he does. He doesn't act like that with the rest of us. He nags us all the time, fights back when we tease him. But he lets you get away with everything. It's obvious.”

“I… had never thought of it that way,” Dejun admitted. “I didn't know that you knew…”

“Everyone knows, Xiao,” Kunhang replied with a smirk. “You'd know too if you weren't so busy trying to hide your feelings and pretending you want to shoot him.”

Dejun could feel a headache arriving, ready to ruin the rest of his day. His ears had to be tricking him. There was no way in hell Kunhang had just said that. No way.

“What… are you implying?” he furrowed his eyebrows. 

Kunhang didn't reply, not directly. 

“You know when you're so sleepy you can't even think? And you end up just falling in the arms of someone you like? That was you last night,” he said. 

“Fuck off, I was just trying to get a better position to sleep, he just happened to be on the way.” he crossed his arms. “I would have slept  _ so _ much better if his dumb ass wasn't there in the first place, that couch is tiny, for your information.”

Kunhang smiled, finishing his meal and cleaning his pants of the crumbs that had fallen. 

“Sure. Where did you sleep, again?”

“I… What? Ah… I already told you that, you idiot.” the repeated question had caught him off guard, to say the least, and not even Kunhang would forget his answer  _ that _ fast. His knowing smile didn't help. 

“The couch was empty, when I woke up. Just like your bed. Checkmate, what do you have to say against that?” he laughed and pointed a finger at Dejun. 

_ Shit.  _ He'd never been a good liar, anyway _.  _

“Fine!” he groaned, “I…” 

How could he say it? After the conversation they just had, after all the times he had complained about literally anything Kun did, after all of his mean, provoking words to him? How could he just admit that he had done… something like… that? Back then, he wasn't thinking. His mind had gone blank, leaving only his needy, lonely side alone to make all of his decisions, and, oh boy, what a mistake that had been. But he couldn't use that as an excuse. Nothing could ever explain it. He hadn't considered his certain regret the next morning, at least not enough to stop him, and now that "next morning" had arrived, he wished he'd stayed in his room, cold and lonely. Even his dark, ridiculous feelings were better than… 

“Yes?” Kunhang insisted. 

No exit. He was trapped, nothing but a brick wall in front of him, and if he turned the other way around to run away from it, he would only find his  _ dear  _ Kun, holding a sword to his throat, his oh so kind smile on his lips. 

“I slept with him,” he admitted. 

“Oh.” Kunhang sounded surprised for the first time that day. “Was it good?”

It took Dejun a couple of seconds to fully understand what his friend meant by that, but when he did, he felt his cheeks getting so warm he could fry an egg on them. 

“Not like that, you fucking moron!” he quickly shouted. He could tell Kunhang fought his laughter, twisting the corners of his mouth in an amused way. Dejun decided to fully ignore that, in a last, desperate attempt to keep what was left of his sanity intact. “We really just slept.”

“So let me get this straight. You complain about him taking up your  _ precious  _ space in the couch, then you go and shove yourself in his bed? That's what happened?” 

“I knew telling you this was a mistake,” Dejun grumbled, preparing to stand up and leave that damned house, but Kunhang chuckled again and grabbed his arm before he had the chance to walk away. 

“C'mooon, Dejunie, let's talk, I'm here to help,” he said. 

“I strongly doubt that.”

“God, you're irritating,” he laughed, and no matter how much Dejun tried, he simply couldn't understand why the hell was all of that so funny to Kunhang. “Talk to him, really.”

“After doing something so completely stupid, I don't even want to look at him ever again,” Dejun said, staring at the grass between his feet. “Maybe I'll build some kind of machine that allows me to put it in my ears and listen to everyone, except for him.”

“What a funny way to show love.”

“Alright, after that one, I'll make sure it'll block your voice too.”

“You don't want to do that.” Kunhang smiled, his shiny black hair reflecting the warm sun. “Block him completely, I mean. We all know how dull your life would be without him.”

Dejun puffed. 

“The only thing my life would be without him is  _ better. _ ”

“And yet, there you go, sleeping in his arms, when you feel lonely.”

Dejun didn't know how to reply to that. 

\---

The gods weren't on Dejun's side that day, for sure, because when he entered the kitchen around lunch time, he found the last person he wanted to see in the entire world. Just like last night, Kun didn't notice him immediately, working on the meal he was cooking with his back facing Dejun, and  _ just _ like last night, the younger stayed near the doorway, eyes glued on Kun's figure when he knew damn well he should turn around and leave. This time, he didn't have time to make a decision, neither good nor bad, because the man looked over his shoulder and smiled at him like nothing had happened. It was always like that. Dejun argued with him over something stupid and unnecessary, and instead of holding a grudge, Kun acted like nothing had happened next time they saw each other, and presented him with his signature stupid, annoying, beautiful smile. 

_ Wait…? _

He didn't have time to dwell on the train wreck that his thoughts were before Kun spoke. 

“Sit,” he suggested in a soft voice, vaguely pointing at the table with his head, his hands too busy with the food he was preparing. “I'm making lunch, do you want anything?”

Dejun shrugged. He suddenly didn't have enough courage to turn around and leave, and since standing there in the middle of the kitchen like an idiot wasn't an option, he decided to follow Kun's suggestion (scratch that, he sat on the nearest chair because he  _ wanted _ to, not because Kun had suggested that) and take a seat at the table. The group rarely ate there, the table only sat six people and more importantly than that, it was usually occupied by all kinds of stuff that didn't fit anywhere else. That day, it was covered in bags, half filled with food, indicating that Kun had done some grocery shopping that morning. 

“I'll have whatever you're having,” he murmured, playing with his fingers and trying to avoid looking at the other man. He had switched the grey t-shirt for a black, long sleeved one. Dejun shook his head. Since when did he care about what that fucker wore? The answer was never. He didn't care. He didn't want to care. 

“Alright, no problem,” Kun answered. 

And since when was silence not awkward between them? Dejun couldn't remember the last time they had been together in the same room like that, without him filling every moment of silence with an unnecessary but hilarious rude comment. He didn't feel like making rude comments now, though. His mind was still half asleep, still stuck in the warmth of Kun's bedroom, and he couldn't think of anything to say. With a hint of slightly unpleasant surprise, he discovered that he didn't want to. The rhythmic noise of Kun's knife chopping vegetables and the hissing of the oil in the pan where the meat cooked filled in the space just fine. 

_ What happened to me? I sleep next to him once, as a dumb mistake, and I'm already acting different? He's my enemy, I shouldn't- _

“Did you sleep well?” Kun's question cut his train of thought again. 

Dejun didn't know what to say. Be honest and say that yes, in fact, he'd slept like a baby, or take the chance to throw him another dagger, one of his classic sharp-edged answers, hoping it would fly in a straight line and stab him in the back? 

He didn't want to lie, though, his lies so far weren't being exactly successful, Kunhang had seen right through him.

“I did,” he ended up saying, still not looking up. 

“Good, I'm glad I could help.” Dejun heard the smile on his voice, even if he couldn't see his face. 

“Don't start,” he said, shutting his eyes. 

“Sorry,” Kun giggled. Apparently everyone in that house was in a good mood except for Dejun himself. 

Silence again, and this time, Dejun felt the desperate need to fill it. If he didn't, he would start thinking, and oh lord, he didn't want to think. 

“I had a strange dream,” he blurted, “while I,” ( _ we) _ “was still on the couch, actually.”

_ Why the hell am I telling him this?  _

“Tell me about it,” Kun asked, drying his hands on a towel. 

No matter how many times Dejun swallowed, the lump in his throat refused to disappear. 

“I don't remember much,” his voice was barely audible, “but there was a poem. A song, in fact.”

“What was it about?” Kun leaned against the counter, crossing his arms and looking directly (uncomfortably) at him. Dejun avoided his deep dark eyes, while he talked. 

“That's the thing. I can't remember,” he explained. 

“Nothing?”

“Well, not exactly. I remember that…” he hesitated, “It was about a blind man. And about love.”

“Who was he? And was he trying to find love?” he asked, stirring the contents of a pot with a spoon. 

“I don't know. I can't remember anything else.” 

“Maybe you were the blind man,” Kun suggested casually. 

Dejun scrunched his nose with a grin. 

“My vision is perfectly fine, thank you very much,” he said, but his sentence lacked the usual bite that used to go along with everything he told Kun. Used to. 

“Oh, your eyes work well enough, but you're blind to a lot of things, let me tell you.” he was smiling, again, fucking hell. And a big smile that time, even though he looked at the food he cooked. “And the "love" part…” he shook his head, amused by his own words. 

“What do you mean?” Dejun questioned, raising an eyebrow. He didn't want to talk about love with him, especially not after what Kunhang had told him, but his mouth worked faster than his brain. 

“Are you in love?” Kun asked instead. 

Dejun compressed his lips into a straight line. 

“Of course not. Are you?” his heart jumped inside his chest when he pronounced those words. 

“I am.”

_ Oh my God, what now? What do I do? I shouldn't have asked, I shouldn't have even stayed, I should have told him I wasn't hungry, I… Fuck.  _

He decided to play the fool. Keep pretending he didn't know anything, Kun didn't need to know he wasn't oblivious to everything anymore. 

“Who is she?” he asked. He had to bite his tongue to keep himself from laughing. The situation was so ridiculous it was almost hilarious. 

“Her name is Meiqi.”

A punch on the face would have surprised him less. Dejun's heart suddenly weighed a ton on his chest, wanting to sink into his body and disappear below the floor, below the ground under it, until it found the center of the earth and stayed there forever, surrounded by hot stone, always protected from everything and everyone, never having to face the world again, or to show any kind of emotion or feelings. When he breathed for the first time in what felt like one year, his lungs burned, and salty tears stung his eyes. 

_ What the fuck? So Kunhang lied to me? I recognize that name, maybe Kun talked about her before… And why wouldn't he, if he likes her. I'm… I can't fucking believe this, he can't be serious. So he's in love with a woman, not with me- _

_ Wait.  _

_ Wait.  _

_ Oh no.  _

_ I…  _

_ Fuck no. This can't be happening.  _

Jealousy. All of that. All those words, all those side eyes, all of those reactions, mood swings, insults, endless fights, could be summarized in one simple, easy concept. Pure jealousy. He was jealous. Of everything. Of how Kun payed attention to everyone except him, how he fought back when he disagreed with the others, but shrugged and smiled when Dejun argued with him, always letting him win the fight; how he scolded the others when they fucked up, but never seemed to care about the consequences of Dejun's mistakes, words and actions. He always had something to say about everyone, never afraid to show he was still one of the leaders, never hesitating before telling them what to do. And with Dejun? Nothing. A kind smile. A promise that he wouldn't tell the other hyungs about his fuck ups. An offer to help him in standing up when he fell. 

Dejun didn't like that. He wanted attention too. Even being scolded, nagged incessantly was better than what he thought was apathy towards him. He didn't want a smile and a pat on the back. He wanted to feel important to him, feel like he mattered, like Kun gave a damn. At least enough to act like Dejun's actions meant  _ something  _ to him, even if the "something" wasn't good. So he tried to push his limits, as further as he possibly could, anything to get a reaction from the older. Everyday, another argument, another teasing, another broken promise. And nothing worked. He didn't want to be mean, he wasn't a mean person. He just wanted Kun to look at him like he  _ mattered,  _ enough to get mad, enough to yell at him. And how easy was to hide his desperation under the mask of hatred… when in fact all he felt was love. 

Kun was right, he  _ was  _ the blind man, looking for love in the wrong places, because he couldn't find the right ones. He should have been kind, smiled at him, flirted with him, held his hand, kept him close. Not pushing him so far away he almost broke his own heart. He was stupid. So stupid, so immature, so toxic. All of that… and Kun loved someone else. 

Scratch the "almost". He did break his own heart. The million pieces that used to make it whole had spread all over that kitchen, red and burning, pooling around Kun's feet. 

“You're an idiot.”

He raised his eyes, a century later. Keeping the tears from flowing freely, running down his face like a river took all of his might. And in the middle of his chaos, Kun smiled, while he placed a bowl full of steamy, deliciously smelling food in front of him. 

“W… what?” his usually strong voice was down to a whisper.

“I said you're an idiot,” Kun repeated. 

Well, thanks. Dejun knew that, even though he felt that the word "idiot" wasn't strong enough to describe him. Not even close. 

His breathing shook again when Kun leaned down. A spear of pain had buried itself in his head, blurring both his sight and his thoughts. He was too close, so close Dejun could smell him. The food, yes, but also his warm, human smell that he had felt that very night, when he'd slept in his arms. When Kun whispered in his ear, Dejun felt his warm breath touching him. 

“Meiqi is the name of my sister, you dummy.” 

The first tear fell. 

\---

“Just for the record, I still hate you. That was cruel.”

Kun laughed. 

“More cruel than what you did to me during all of this time?” he asked. 

Dejun bit his lip. Touché. 

Sitting on the sand, with their backs leaning against a rock, and the sun reflecting on the water right in front of their eyes was far from being the coziest situation Dejun had ever been in, but Kun's arm around his shoulders made everything worth it. The younger boy buried his face in Kun's chest even more, wrapping his arms around his waist and bringing him closer. He felt his long, elegant fingers playing in the strands of his hair, once again. They had been talking for hours now, pouring their hearts out, sharing every secret. 

“Still,” Dejun said, “You actually made me think you were in love with that girl.”

Kun hugged him, bringing their bodies so close they could melt and become one. 

“C'mon, I had talked about my sister before.”

“I know, I was recognizing the name!” Dejun explained. “I just thought it sounded familiar because she was your girlfriend, or fiancé or whatever, I was too overwhelmed to remember that name was your sister’s. You didn't help either, idiot,” he complained, playfully punching his arm, with a fraction of the strength he used to use. 

“Sorry, I just had to. You should have seen your face. I felt bad for a second, you looked like your life was falling apart, but you know. You treated me so badly, I thought I should get my revenge, at least just once,” Kun said. “I could have left you there, crying your eyes out, but I didn't, so you can't be  _ too  _ mad at me.”

“Honestly, I think I deserved that,” Dejun murmured. 

Kun's fingertips touched his chin, and slowly guided his face towards himself, making the younger look at him. 

“Forget about that now. Don't worry. I forgive you.”

Dejun wasn't used to being so close to anyone, especially not the man he had spent almost two years convincing himself he hated. His heart beat faster than ever before, making his cheeks turn rosy. Kun's eyes weren't black, after all, but rather dark brown, and they reflected the sunlight like a jewel. 

“Alright,” was all he managed to say, when all he could think about was Kun. His beautiful eyes, his defined eyebrows, the mole under one of them, his cute nose, his adorable dimples… his full lips. How had he spent so long without noticing how gorgeous he actually was? How had he ever been capable of thinking he was boring? 

Kun's hand caressed his face, while he smiled at Dejun like he was the only boy in the world. As for the younger, he wouldn't mind if Kun was in fact the only boy in the world, he would be perfectly happy with that. 

He wasn't the blind man anymore, and he didn't have to look for love anywhere else. 

With that, Kun's hand cupped his jaw, and he got closer and closer, until they were mere centimeters apart. Dejun let his eyes close, and let his heart explode with happiness when their lips touched. 

He didn't have to remember the song. He could always write a new one.


	2. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it took me way to long to post this and i'm so sorry akjsdkdkaj

The third year of college wasn't easy, and the stress started to affect Dejun more and more until the exhaustion took over every cell in his body and replaced its organelles with worries, assignments and group projects. He had two tests he needed to study for, an half-written essay due next Wednesday, a project still stuck in a very initial phase because his group mates were apparently the busiest, most disoriented people in the entire country, and Dejun always had to drag them along, forcing them to collaborate at least enough to earn their names on the list of participants, because it pained him to exclude people, especially when they were struggling. His never-ending to-do list followed him every moment of the day, from the moment he woke up to the minute he laid his head down on his pillow to sleep, late at night, after studying until 2 am, keeping him permanently busy. He was tired, but his perfectionism didn't let him pause until everything was finished, for better or worse. 

But even a boy as hard-working as Dejun needed a break sometimes, and that's why he laid on Kun's bed that night, eyes half closed, feeling the older's lips travel across the skin of his neck, instead of feeling his keyboard under his fingers while he wrote the fucking essay. 

He didn't want to think about the essay, though. All he cared about in that moment was how heavy, hot and cozy his body felt under Kun's. 

“Hum… that feels good,” Dejun whispered, letting his thoughts fade into nothingness and focusing purely on his boyfriend. His hands, previously resting on the bed, moved to Kun's dark hair, and his slender fingers ran through the thick strands. 

“Yeah?” Kun asked. Dejun felt his lips curling into a smile, still glued to his neck. His breath was hot against his sensitive skin. “I can keep going, if you let me.” 

God, his voice. Dejun's inexperienced ears weren't used to what people used to call "bedroom voice", so hearing Kun's darker, heavier tone made his heart rush. If that's how he sounded in bed, Dejun would certainly let him talk as much as he wanted to. 

“You can. Keep going,” he answered, before his mind had the chance to drift into places he didn't know if he was ready to explore yet. He didn't know what he was doing, his brain still needed a few more days to properly understand what was, in fact, happening between them. Even remembering that the person on top of him carried the name he had trained himself to hate for two whole years made his head go dizzy, let alone thinking about moving forward. 

But in moments like that, when their bodies laid so close, even with clothes on, he couldn't help but to wonder. When Kun left his neck and dedicated himself to kissing his collarbones, Dejun's wild thoughts drifted to listing all the other places where he wouldn't mind feeling Kun's lips. 

Alright, too much, he should stop. Otherwise he would get hard and he definitely didn't want that. Not when all that had happened between them that night could be summarized in two words: neck kisses. Embarrassing. 

“Good. I didn't want to stop anyway.”

Another long, wet kiss. Dejun felt the vibration on Kun's voice against his collarbone when he spoke. 

“Why? Are you having fun?” The younger joked, to keep himself from thinking about a lot of things, but mostly about how the innocent, chaste kisses had evolved into fiercer ones, and all that wetness couldn't be possible if Kun wasn't… 

Oh alright, that was definitely his tongue. Fuck. Dejun closed his eyes again. 

“So much fun,” he heard. Then the older's arms moved. One of them supported his own weight, the forearm resting on the mattress, next to Dejun's head, while Kun's free hand dangerously caressed his leg, until it reached his hip. Even through his jeans, Dejun's skin burned, sending electric shocks throughout his entire body when Kun's strong hands slightly squeezed his flesh. 

Dejun wanted to give him something in exchange, let his bolder, more daring side show and do something sexy too. He didn't have to be afraid, the lock on the door protected them from unwanted eyes and none of their friends were home that night. Instead, he melted with every touch, every kiss, every word, his limbs turning into a happy puddle of relaxation. Floating on a cloud, miles above the earth, all he could do was let his body go pliant and gladly accept everything his lover did to him. And all in all, playing with Kun's hair and scratching his nails on his nape had to be better than nothing. 

He sighed, letting all his worries disappear while Kun turned his jaw into a monument of warm kisses. 

He almost made a smartass comment, but wasting a moment like that would be blasphemy, so he replaced his words with a soft moan, immediately feeling his cheeks heating up after the sound escaped his lips. However, he didn't have time to regret his actions before he noticed his boyfriend had enjoyed that, proving him so with the way his hand left his hip and snaked up, entering the space between Dejun's shirt and his bare skin. 

Dejun's eyes shot open. He hadn't been expecting that, not so soon. Not on their first make out session.

(Not that something particularly scandalous had just happened. Dejun had simply been single for too long, and every little touch felt sinful, enough to blur his thoughts.) 

Up, up, up. From his waist, to his stomach, to his chest. His toes curled when Kun's fingers brushed against one of his nipples. The warmth of his hand ran through the entire expanse of his body, making him hyper-aware of everything going on between them. His fast heartbeat and unsteady breathing, the pair of soft lips that didn't leave his neck and throat for a second, but also, how his legs seemed to move on their own, desperate to find a comfortable, satisfying position, and how  _ tight  _ his jeans started to feel. 

He didn't know if Kun noticed too, or if their timing was just too perfect, but the older moved his mouth away from Dejun and used his arms to lift his torso, looking at him from above. Dejun got lost in his brown eyes, that reflected the yellow light of the lamp in the same way a quiet lake reflected the ethereal moonlight. 

“So pretty…” Kun murmured, smiling, and if Dejun had been blushing before, his face certainly shined red now. 

When he brought his face down again, his lips didn't attach themselves to his neck again, but instead flew straight to the younger boy's lips, joining them in a warm, messy kiss. 

A shiver made goosebumps appear all over Dejun's skin, and he decided his bold, sexy moment had arrived. Not missing a single second, he bit Kun's bottom lip, and used his second of surprise to shove his tongue inside his mouth. Suddenly, he felt too hot inside his clothes. They had never kissed like that, not that fiercely, not making their tongues dance so fast and their lips crash so intensely. Only then, right when it happened, did Dejun realize how desperately he needed to be kissed like that, to be touched like that and more, so much more. They couldn't do soft, dainty kisses, that could never work. If Dejun had tried to ignite his hatred and make it burn like a wildfire, but had only managed to create a flame in his love, he couldn't extinguish it now. His imaginary hatred wasn't flammable, but his passion surely was. 

He moaned again against Kun's mouth when he felt his hand being removed and leaving his chest empty again, but Kun didn't give him a second to ask him to touch him again before he grabbed his hip again, letting his hand slide through his leg until it reached his knee. Then he forced it up, and even Dejun's hazy mind got the clue, wrapping both of his legs around his boyfriend's waist, their lips never losing contact. He had never felt so close to him, nor so vulnerable in this best kind of way, his small body fitting perfectly under Kun's. The only disadvantage laid in the fact that he could now feel his crotch uncomfortably pressed against Kun's body. His attempt at keeping himself from the endless stream of dirty thoughts his mind presented to him a few minutes before had been completely useless, because he'd gotten  _ hard _ hard. 

And if Kun's grin was anything to go by, he had noticed it too. 

“Someone's liking this,” he said, breaking the kiss, smiling when a string of saliva connected their mouths even if they weren't touching anymore. Dejun tried to catch his breath while the pause lasted. 

“Fuck you,” he spat, not even looking at Kun in the eyes, even though the taller didn't let him avoid his stare for long, before he grabbed his chin and turned his head slowly, forcing Dejun to look at him. 

“Hey, there's nothing to be ashamed of, alright, baby?”

_ Baby.  _ Fuck fuck fuck fuck… Not a pet name… Dejun was already turned on enough. He bit the inside of his lip, unable to look away from Kun's lips, red and swollen from all the intense kisses. 

“Want another kiss?” he heard. When he looked up, Kun's eyes glistened with a hint of mischief. 

“Don't talk to me like that, I'm not a kid,” he complained. “I  _ do  _ want a kiss, but don't be a dick about it.”

Kun chuckled. 

“I'll give you something even better,” he said. 

Next thing Dejun knew, he moaned again, louder than before, this time because Kun had replaced his lips on Dejun's neck with his  _ teeth.  _ The younger increased his grip on the strands of hair he held in his fingers, letting his back arch slightly while he felt Kun working on what would certainly turn into a nasty, bright hickey next morning. His legs involuntarily squeezed his torso, bringing him closer and closer, the light fraction he received in return not nearly enough to satisfy him. 

“Fuck!”

Everything happened too fast. He barely had time to think about how hard (impossible) it would be to hide the hickey next morning before their lips met again, strongly enough to make their teeth clash in a warm, passionate, wet mess. 

If the gods up there had decided that their first make out session would turn into what was about to happen, Dejun didn't feel he had enough authority to disagree with them. Not that he wanted to. 

Right, enough hair, his hands needed to touch something else or else they would explode. He let go of the now very tangled mop Kun called hair and ran his fingers through his back, feeling the muscles under his t-shirt. Another shiver. Although he would never admit it out loud, he was getting more desperate by the second. For a second, he let his hands explore Kun's butt, but then he decided that giving the hint that he wanted both of their shirts off  _ now  _ would be more productive, so he pulled the hem of his boyfriend's garment, giving it a few tugs for good measure. Ever so attentive and careful, Kun quickly pulled away just for the time it took him to undress his top and to help Dejun do the same. When he leaned closer again, laying his now bare chest over Dejun's, the skin on skin feeling hit him so hard he felt his brain shutting down again, leaving him thoughtless in that bed. 

“Kun… c'mon…” he whispered, doing his best to sound as not whiny as possible. After all, he still had a reputation to keep. 

“Tell me what you want,” Kun asked, his deep eyes piercing Dejun's soul.

“Don't play with me,” the younger answered, his voice low and weak. 

“I'm not, baby, I just want to know if you're sure. I don't want to hurt you.”

Damn him and his good manners and good heart and protectiveness and… Dejun grabbed his shoulders, bringing him down again so quickly he almost lost balance. The older smirked. 

“Your wish is my command,” he said. 

His right hand grabbed his still uncomfortably clothed dick and the sudden pressure ripped another moan out of Dejun's throat. Shit, that was actually happening. For real, there and then. Dejun vibrated in his own skin, the anticipation eating him whole. He helped Kun in unbuckling his belt and he felt his jeans sliding off his legs in the blink of an eye. Alright, not bad, his legs didn't feel like they were overheating now, and the hard denim didn't restrain him anymore. But it wasn't enough. 

Luckily, his underwear followed soon, quickly thrown away, and a second later his completely naked body laid on the sheets, sweaty and ready. 

Kun stared at him, his eyes swallowing every inch of his warm skin, and Dejun found out he didn't mind him staring. Hell, if he wasn't rock hard by then, the way Kun bit his lip while he looked at him would have done the trick. There's nothing quite like feeling wanted by the person we want the most, and Dejun knew that Kun's intense eyes meant only raw desire. 

“God, you're beautiful,” he said, shaking his head like he couldn't believe the heavenly sight he had in front of him. 

He didn't leave a single square inch unexplored, touching and kissing every detail of Dejun's chest, belly and legs, always keeping his mouth and fingers annoyingly far away from where Dejun needed him the most. 

Just when he was about to throw his dignity out of the window, and  _ beg  _ Kun to touch him, he felt his hand wrapping around his aching cock. A gasp left his lips and he raised his head, exchanging his comfortable position laying down with the privilege of seeing what went down between his legs. And Kun's hand around his length was definitely a sight to behold. Dejun raised his upper body, using his elbows to support his weight, but Kun quickly shut up Dejun's soft, fast moans, released every time his hand moved to stroke him, with his burning lips and wet tongue, kissing him harder than ever before. His hands gripped the sheets when Kun slowed down, torturing him, keeping his pace too slow for it to feel good, then sped up again, using the leaking precome to make the slide smoother, making Dejun roll his eyes in pleasure. Having someone else touch him felt five thousand times better than using his own hands. Having  _ Kun  _ touch him felt even better. 

Dejun moaned in protest when Kun's hand and lips left him, but before he could replace his hand with his own, something wet touched the tip of his cock, and the younger boy almost fainted when he realized his boyfriend had it inside his mouth. Worse, he looked at him with the nastiest eyes Dejun had ever seen in him while he licked him. 

“Shit, babe, I…”

He didn't have time to say anything else before his loud moan interrupted his own sentence, when Kun took all that he could inside his warm mouth, still holding the base with his hand. 

“Fuck, Kun, yes yes yes…” his thoughts mixed together, forming an incoherent soup inside his mind and he threw his head back, his last three brain cells working full time to keep him from coming right there and then. “Ah, that feels so good, yes…”

The older didn't reply; even if he wanted to, his mouth would be way too full. He'd started bobbing his head up and down, at just the right speed, while his hand worked on where his mouth didn't reach without gagging. 

“You should stop,” he suggested, breathless, “unless you want me to cum in your mouth.”

Kun took his mouth from Dejun's length with a pop, a smirk hanging on his shiny lips. 

“I wouldn't mind that, but I have other plans for you, tonight,” he said, standing up. Only then Dejun remembered he still had his pants on. 

“Wait, don't…” he swallowed, trying to keep his voice from shaking, “... don't you want me to… do the same to you?”

Kun smiled, this time sincerely, and Dejun's heart melted a little when his beautiful dimples made their first appearance that night. A sudden thought dashed through Dejun's mind and for a second, he clearly imagined the cute, innocent dimples covered in his cum. Fuck. His dick twitched just thinking about it. 

“Next time, baby,” he reassured. “Now, I just really want to fuck you.”

Dejun's legs worked independently from his mind and closed on his own, a sudden wave of embarrassment sweeping his body under Kun's gaze. When the older noticed this, he walked around the bed and planted a close mouthed kiss on his lips. 

“Don't worry. I'll take good care of you,” he said, so close Dejun felt his warm breath on his lips. “Just tell me if I do something you don't like, okay?” 

Dejun nodded. His need grew stronger again, now that he'd been left untouched, and he really,  _ really,  _ needed Kun to keep his promise and fuck him like he meant it.

The younger boy sat on the bed, admiring the show that unfolded in front of him. Kun's abs (never in his entire life, Dejun had dared to imagine his body looking like  _ that _ . His face could be deadly handsome, but his body had jumped straight out of Dejun's wet dreams) had kept his eyes well busy the first time he'd seen him shirtless, but he had to bite the inside of his cheeks when Kun took his pants and his underwear off. He just couldn't look  _ away _ from it. He was pretty confident in his size, but his boyfriend was bigger. Thicker too. And Dejun just wanted it inside him and he wanted it  _ now.  _

“Staring is rude,” Kun joked, running a confident hand through his hair, enjoying the way his boyfriend looked at his body. 

“Shut up. Do you have any lube?” Dejun asked, biting the nail on his thumb, in a desperate attempt to keep his mouth busy with  _ something _ , now that he knew he wouldn't have the chance to choke on Kun's cock. 

The older smiled, and walked to his jacket, hanging on a hook next to the bedroom door. 

“In your pocket??” Dejun asked his disbelief. “You walk around with fucking lube on the pocket of your jacket??”

“Yes, baby, always.” Kun rolled his eyes, while he took a small bottle from the pocket, protected by a zipper. “Every day. I never know when I'm going to find a cute boy who's down to fuck.” Dejun opened his mouth to say something, but Kun didn't let him talk. “I brought it today because I knew we would be alone tonight, alright, dumbass?”

Dejun crossed his arms, and raised one of his perfect eyebrows. 

“Don't call me dumbass when you're about to fuck me,” he warned. 

Kun walked to the bed again, throwing the bottle at Dejun and climbing on top of him, letting his arms cage him. 

“What should I call you then? Baby? Prince?” he asked. 

“Sir.” Dejun smirked, and blushed slightly when Kun laughed. 

“I think you got it the other way around,” he said before he captured his lips in another heated kiss. “Lay down.”

Dejun obeyed, far too turned on to fight back even such a direct order. 

“Close your eyes,” he heard, and again, he did as told. Then, he felt two strong hands spreading his thighs. He sucked in a breath, balling his hands into fists. He was lucky he blindly trusted Kun, otherwise, he'd be deadly nervous. 

The two sensations he felt next harshly contrasted with each other: the familiar, delicious warm taste of Kun's kisses, and the slippery cold of the lube when a finger approached his entrance. He relaxed all of his muscles, focusing on Kun's tongue dancing with his own, to keep him distracted from the slight burn he felt when his finger fully entered him. Only their lips moved for a minute, then the older boy slowly started to move his finger in and out, taking his time. Dejun bit Kun's lip again. Was it  _ that  _ obvious he had never done that before?

The next minutes both lasted an eternity and went by way too fast, because Dejun, so completely lost in the white hot pleasure he felt from kissing his love and having his naked body glued to his own, barely realized he already had another finger inside him, spreading him open, and then another. 

“Ah. Fuck,” he let out. 

“Does it hurt?” 

“A little. But it's… it feels a little weird, too,” he admitted. “But don't pull out, I can take it,” he quickly added. 

Kun caressed his jaw with his free hand. 

“Baby, it's alright, I can stop, if you need.” 

“No, don't, I want this, c'mon,” Dejun said, then remembered something perfect to add, “Besides, you're not that big, it's not like it's gonna hurt me.”

“Bitch.”

To show him he meant his word, Kun moved his fingers faster, bringing them deeper, and curving them until they touched a certain spot inside Dejun's walls that caught him completely off guard in the way it sent an intense wave of pleasure through his body. He couldn't keep in the loud moan that begged to be released. 

“Ah, fuck, Kun! It feels good, there…” 

“Where, baby?” he teased, keeping his fingers away from Dejun's sweet spot. 

“Fuck, please!” he threw his head back when he felt his bundle of nerves being stimulated again. He was too far gone, nothing mattered anymore, screw his dignity. He just needed to feel that again, and again, and again. 

“Right… there…” his voice trembled. 

“Yeah? Does it feel good?” Kun's voice sounded like honey dripping to his ears, and the heat was getting unbearable. Fingers felt good, amazing, even, but he needed more. So he asked for it. 

“More.”

“More? Do you want me?” Kun asked, never stopping the moving of his fingers. 

“Yes…”

“Right now?”

“Kun, please!” he begged, being immediately silenced by a strong, wet, filthy kiss. 

“I'll give you everything you want, baby.”

“Hurry, c'mon… I really want to cum…”

Even though it was obvious, Dejun's little brain, completely overwhelmed by pleasure, hadn't considered that in order to get Kun's cock inside him, his fingers would have to disappear, so feeling empty all of a sudden knocked the wind out of him. Through half lidded eyes, he saw Kun spreading a generous amount of lube on his length, stroking it a few times before he changed his position and got on top of Dejun again. He smiled, and when he leaned closer, he chose to cover the younger's face and chest with a thousand soft kisses, calming him down. 

“Are you ready?” he asked, hooking Dejun's legs around his waist. When he only nodded, Kun kissed his nose. “Use your words, baby.”

Dejun had been high a few times, and even then he had never felt so light headed as he did in that moment. Who needed drugs when he had a man like Kun, anyway? Cloud nine was located precisely on the bed they shared. 

“Yes,” he managed to say. 

It felt different from the fingers, completely different. Just as wet, but much bigger, thicker, better. Dejun suddenly didn't miss the fingers anymore. 

Kun entered slowly, showing him all of his self control. Because Dejun's brain could be in the process of turning into jell-o, but he wasn't blind. He saw the sweat that dampened his hair, the droplet that ran down his temple. He felt his hands gripping his waist so strongly Dejun knew the bruise on his neck wouldn't be the only one his body would show next morning. He heard the faint, deep moans he let out, his vision getting clouded by all the pleasure. He knew Kun wanted him as much as Dejun wanted him, but forced himself to take it slowly and keep him safe and unharmed, when clearly all he wanted to do was shove himself fully inside Dejun's ass and fuck him until he screamed. But he wouldn't. Not that night. That night they would only make love. 

Finally, he entered completely, and stayed still for a moment, letting Dejun get used to the feeling of being full. The younger wrapped his legs tighter, burying his nails on Kun's back enough to leave red crescent marks behind, while Kun kissed his neck, running his tongue over the bruises he'd left there, a million years ago. It was… a lot, for Dejun. He kept his eyes shut, trying not to moan too loudly until he finally felt ready. 

“Move, please,” he asked 

“Are you sure? Does it hurt?”

“I'm fine, I just need you to move.”

So he did, so slowly at first Dejun didn't feel him. Only when his length touched his bundle of nerves again did a long, heavy moan leave his throat. His nails dug even deeper on Kun's skin. 

“Oh God… Yes… that feels good… Please…” 

Kun slowly picked up his pace, increasing the speed of his strokes little by little, keeping his boyfriend comfortable and satisfied. Just looking at his flushed face, eyes half closed, plush, shiny lips, and sweaty hair made everything worth it. And Dejun kept pulling him closer with his legs, hugging him tighter with his arms. Neither of them was going to last much longer. 

When Kun's rhythm reached a certain point, Dejun's breathy moans had turned into a constant, the soft noise sounded like the sweetest melody to Kun's ears. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…”

“God, baby, you're so tight, this feels so good…”

It did, and he  _ was.  _ Not unexpected, given that he had never done anything like that before, but it made Kun's head go dizzy. He'd dreamt about that moment, several times, and not even in his wildest dream he'd imagined having sex with his lover would feel that good, that tight, that amazing… 

“Kun, I need to… I need to cum…”

“Me too, baby, shit…”

He sped up just slightly, taking Dejun to the maximum point he could reach before he actually started to hurt him, which was the last thing he ever wanted to do, and from that point on, it only took him less than half a minute until he had the blissful opportunity to see his beautiful baby, spread his lips in a choked moan, arching his back and scratching his back with his nails when he came all over their stomachs, painting their skin with his sticky white fluid. 

The orgasm pulsed through Dejun's veins like a wave, lighting him on fire and blinding him for a few seconds. He couldn't think, he couldn't move, he could barely breathe, the only thing his brain processed was Kun, Kun, Kun… Nothing else in the world existed but both of them, that room, that bed. No college, no classes, no projects or assignments, no Abilities, Things or destroyed cities, nothing ever mattered when compared to the electric shock that snapped inside him, burning his skin when the movement of Kun's hips became erratic, and he came inside him, warm and wet, with a long moan only muffled by the way he bit the skin on Dejun's neck. He didn't even feel the bite, his mind had drifted far away and all of his pain receptors had shut down, giving space to the pleasure that swallowed him. 

They stayed like that for a while, holding their bodies in a trance, their warm breaths heating up each other's already scorching skin. Dejun didn't feel capable of moving a single muscle, and his eyelids dropped against his will. His irregular breathing slowly calmed down while he felt himself falling asleep, the coziness of his boyfriend's skin keeping him from getting cold even when the thin layer of sweat on his skin lost its warmth. Then, his eyes fluttered open and he couldn't contain a shaky moan when Kun pulled out, leaving him empty and hollow, the feeling of fullness and euphoria he had experienced disappearing instantly. 

“No… don't…” he pleaded, his weakened legs doing their best to keep him close and buried inside his heat. Maybe forever, he wouldn't mind. 

“I have to, baby, it's starting to hurt.”

With a grumble, Dejun let go, his legs falling heavily on the mattress. The tenuous task of trying to keep his eyes open and his mind awake took too much of his strength, leaving him with none to complain. When Kun stood up, abandoning Dejun's body and leaving him exposed, a hint of shame swallowed the younger. While the sex lasted, it had been one of the most mind-blowing experiences of his life, but now, naked, sweaty, with a hickey on his neck and his own cum staining his stomach, while Kun's oozed from inside him, almost spreading to the sheets, he just felt dirty. To make matters worse, he didn't even care enough to get up and do something about his filthy state. All he cared about was his handsome boyfriend, who softly cleaned him with a towel he'd gotten from one of his drawers. Dejun didn't know how he managed to walk, he knew his legs would fail him if he even dared to take a step. 

“Look at what you've done, you left me this disgusting hickey right on my neck,” Dejun complained only half seriously, enjoying the small sting of pain he felt when his fingertips brushed against the recent bruise. “How am I supposed to walk around, with it right here on full display?”

Kun shrugged, smiling, and folded the towel carefully, keeping it on a chair next to the nightstand until he could wash it next morning. He returned to the bed, moving blankets and pillows around to create a decent sleeping environment for both of them. Yeah, the sheets would have to join the towel on the washing machine soon. 

“Do you care what people say? They'll just probably think you found someone, and they won't be surprised; of course a boy as handsome as you would deserve some kisses,” he stated, laying down next to Dejun and covering their bodies with the duvet. 

Not much had changed, Dejun still threw him some playful comments (now completely harmless, sometimes even shy, self-incriminating) and Kun always knew what to reply, defeating him so gracefully Dejun didn't mind being left speechless. 

Instead of replying, Dejun snuggled closer, tangling his legs with Kun's and leaning his head on the older's chest, listening to his heartbeat like one listens to a song. Kun wrapped his arms around his smaller frame, and kissed his forehead, keeping his lips attached to it for longer than necessary, as to tell him he'd stay, for as long as he wanted to. Dejun's body didn't feel cold or empty anymore, quite the opposite, he'd never felt his heart so full, ready to burst, to explode in a million flowers and music notes. 

“Did you remember the poem?” Kun asked, and Dejun felt the warmth of his breath on his forehead when he spoke, “The one you dreamt about?”

The poem, the song. Long gone by then, easily forgotten ever since Dejun realized it didn't matter, it never did. Maybe one day he would remember, maybe he wouldn't, who knew. He didn't care. Holding on to the past too tightly had always been what kept him from moving forward. 

“I didn't,” he answered, his thumb caressing Kun's back. “But I'm writing a new one, will you help me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you liked :D  
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/QlANSUH)

**Author's Note:**

> 1) i was actually the one who had that dream and i woke up super annoyed bc i couldn't remember it so i decided to make it dejun's problem  
> 2) the second chapter is… naughty  
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/QlANSUH)


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